My Old Best Friend
by Hannan
Summary: New law: No more visiting Lewis in the past for Wilbur. Wilbur's Problem: He has no friends in the present.
1. Just Visiting

I've never tried to think of an idea less. ^.^ Woo.

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"Caw, caw! Coo coo cooo!"

Lewis wrinkled his nose. After all this time, Wilbur didn't have to sneak anymore. Silly.

He had spotted Wilbur hiding on the Orphanage roof when he decided to show off his latest invention, (Hover Boots). He crouched down to check them one last time before he gave them their trial run.

"Lewis?" He heard Wilbur ask quietly, only vaguely resembling sneakiness.

"Here I come, buddy." Lewis said, grinning. He stood, clicking his heels together, and jumped, catching his balance quickly as the compressed air came rushing out. He laughed, watching the first few stories of the building rush by his half-flailing form. Wilbur had finally heard the experiment, and leaned over to flash his friend a grin. "Making a real entrance there, eh Lewis?"

Just then, Lewis felt the air run out. He was so close to the top, Wilbur could have high fived him. "Uh oh."

Desperately, he threw his arms out, eyes closed, as he began to see his life flash by. Surprisingly, he hadn't felt a splat yet. "Wilbur?" He ventured, pre-puberty voice shaking.

"Yeah?"

"Am I dead?"

"No."

He opened one eye. Wilbur had him caught by the arm. Lewis took one look down and screamed, but, because of his obligatory male ego, he denied that part later on.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. With barely any effect, he tossed Lewis to the comforting concrete roof. Lewis stayed down a minute to appreciate the scratchy stuff his cheek was sticking to.

"Close one, huh buddy?"

Adjusting his big wire glasses, Lewis laughed. "You can say that again. Where'd you get those muscles, kid?"

Wilbur posed with his wimpy-looking set. "I got myself a turbo-charged workout, Lewis."

He slung an arm around his shoulders. "Translation: I finally invented something that would help you with the ladies, huh?"

"Let's just say one little pill can't hurt your chances of having some fan girls."

"I've got to stop letting you in the lab."

Wilbur flexed again. "Good thing you'll never remember your own advice, Dad."

Lewis pushed up his glasses with his first two fingers. "Someday I will. Then maybe I'll round you." "What? Why?"

'Cause I know you'll have done _something_ to deserve it. Even if I don't know what."

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Want to grab some food or something?"

"Can we walk? My shoes have to be refilled."

"You know, my Hover Boots refill themselves, while they are still in the air even."

"You get the coolest toys, Wilbur."

"I know some really cool people who hook me up. It's all good."

Wilbur rubbed his sweaty palms on his pant's back pockets. This morning, Franny had laid down the new law: no more visiting Lewis. He was officially banned from the time machines. (Even though Dad had given him detailed lessons on how to use them; he wasn't about to crash again) He had been made to promise to tell Lewis today that he wasn't coming back.

But with Lewis babbling animatedly about his newest invention's test phase, Wilbur reasoned he shouldn't interrupt. _Right after this, _he told himself, _I promise._

As Wilbur and Lewis took their junk food down to their favorite talking spot – the broken wall by the train tracks – Lewis finally began to look over at him. "You okay? You seem… off today."

His mind raced. It was now or never.

"Nah, Buddy. I was just worried out food would get cold."

-----------

Poor Will. Reviews/whatever is highly appriciated!


	2. Snoopin'

"Wilbur? Wilbur! You back, Sweetie?"

Franny was ready for anything. If her baby was sad, angry, upset, whatever, she was ready. She knew he didn't want to stop going, but Cornelius and she had been talking extensively; it had to be bad for him. Who ever heard of having your father, when was just a year younger than you, be your best friend? No, it just couldn't be healthy.

Anyway, if Wilbur 'dumped' Lewis, he would have time for other kids. Normal kids. Kids that hadn't spawned you. Weird.

His machine appeared; encased in a (now popping) bubble. Wilbur stomped out.

"Baby, did you tell him?"

"No." He barked, his voice rough.

"And why is that? I told you to do that today. He's gotta know why you won't be around anymore, Will."

"You showed up, Mom. He's 16, who do you think he picked to hang out with? I'm working on it, okay?"

"You better stop the attitude, young man." Franny said, frowning.

Wilbur just nodded and stomped (more lightly) upstairs.

He kind of knew where he had been going, but Wilbur still had to suddenly process that he was now standing in Dad's lab. Cornelius Robinson was gone for the day, so Wilbur knew no one would catch him up here. Dad's lab was very private; it was _big_ doo doo to mess with stuff in the lab.

Still, if was comforting to be around all this Lewis. His best friend was growing up, and soon, in just a couple years according to Wilbur's birthday, Lewis would be too busy with his new family to have time for his son, (or at least his son from the future). Plus, sometime around then he would switch over to Cornelius big time. Wilbur shivered at that thought; he was losing his best friend for a baby.

Dorkily, or maybe more like scientifically, Dad kept a journal of all his experiments. Okay, actually it was _journals_. There were dozens, really. Wilbur had never had the guts, (or will) to snoop. But today… _I wonder…_

With a glance over his shoulder, Wilbur ticked through them quickly. He soon found the one he was looking for: Lewis at 16.

Back then, Dad had (obviously) still preferred Lewis to Cornelius. Wilbur never quite had bothered to figure when his change in preference had happened. He flipped to a random page and checked the date; tomorrow.

It talked about the Hover Boots extensively. At the end, in scrawled, hasty writing, Lewis had added; _I decided to try to get the air to recycle – it works! Now I can fly as long as I want because it can never run out! _Wilbur smiled. It continued. _I saw Franny today, too. She looked great and I bought us some fast food that we ate on the Train Wall. Since I know she'll say yes eventually, can I ask her now? _

Lewis had asked Franny to marry him on her 17th birthday – she had actually said yes! The wedding was on the day after graduation for her. (He had graduated a couple years early to free up his inventing time – "Morning, Wilbur! It is the best time of the day to create!")

Wilbur checked the next page. Dad hadn't mentioned him. _That's weird, _he thought. He looked back to earlier this week – the last time he visited. No mention there, either. He flipped back to the week before last – nada. "Has he ever talked about me?" Only one place that Wilbur would have to be talked about; the original trip. He tossed the current journal aside and dug for the first one.

"Okay, now he'll have to gloat about his best friend." Wilbur muttered, grinning to himself. There is nothing like a 17 year old boy hearing how great he is. _Here it is, _he thought. Lewis babbled for pages about his "new" family and the future trip he had taken. No Wilbur.

"How the _heck_ am I not in here?!"

Just then, he heard footsteps on the traditional stairs Mom hadn't ripped out yet. (All the other sets had been gutted for the suck-drop tubes) Wilbur moaned desperately, swinging his head around, looking for an escape. As he tried to run, he skidded haphazardly into a lab cabinet, knocking down tons of random crap Wilbur couldn't even begin to guess what Dad used for. Several journals fell, too. The door knob was turning.

Hastily, he looked for anything he could hide in. Wilbur flung open the cabinet door and shoved out enough stuff to fold his lanky form in. He heard the door close and lock again.

"Glad I came back early?" He heard Dad ask.

Mom giggled. "Always."

Wilbur sighed quietly. He had a long wait.


	3. Scold

It took Wilbur about two seconds upon waking to try to stretch and promptly hit the top of his head on something solid. Groggily, he tried to remember why his bed felt so weird. Without being able to finish the thought, he felt his pocket vibrate once. He awkwardly rescued the dying phone from the depths of teenage-boy grime and peeked at the message:

_If you're done sleeping, we're done inventing. Come on out, Son. _

He groaned, suddenly remembering the desperate attempt to hide while his parents... reunited after Dad's trip. The cabinet. He had crawled into the cabinet. That explains the muscles screaming at him in apparent anger.

Slowly, he creaked the doors open, not hoping to find anyone around. Unfortunately, parents have a way of doing the exact opposite of what you want them to do, and in this case that meant that Cornelius Robinson was watching his son, grinning, as he tried to unfold his newly-20-feet-longer-due-to-puberty legs out of the cabinet without falling.

Finally he straightened, dusting his pants off in an attempt to look casual, as if he slept in storage spaces often. "Hi, Dad," He said, edging to the door. "Glad you and Mom had a good time... inventing,_(Babies, maybe?)_ "But I have a whole lot of very important things I must attend to, so if you'll excuse me..."

Cornelius chuckled, "Stop right there, young man. If you wouldn't mind clearing your social calendar, I'd like to ask you what you were doing in my lab."

Blast! And with only about one more step until he could have made a run for it! Gritting his teeth and then putting on a classic, no-one-with-a-heartbeat-can-resist Robinson grin, "_That_ is an excellent question, Dad,"

Cornelius smiled softly. Somehow, (darn that time travel), he had ended up teaching Wilbur that phrase. Back before he was old enough to be cocky on his own accord, Wilbur had soaked up everything Lewis told him, thinking the older boy was "cool". (With quotation marks, you see, for Lewis is only "cool" if cool means "able to invent many ways to explode random junk" or "the kid with the tallest hair in class" which, if I'm not mistaken, it does not) Lewis had randomly thrown in that phrase, not even thinking that there had been a time when Wilbur didn't say it religiously, and it stuck. It's hard being in multiple times, you see.

He snapped back to the present where Wilbur was saying, "And you, my dearest Father, have every right to ask anything you wish. So, uh, what did you ask again?"

"What were you doing in my lab, Wilbur?" Cornelius repeated, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking an eyebrow. In this one movie he had seen, the father did that, and the kid totally obeyed everything he said, seriously.

"Dad, of course you would be upset that I was in your own, private, beautiful lab without your permission. However, while I was sleeping last night, I was suddenly awoken by an inspiration!A bead of sweat trailed down his face. "I, uh, I was inspired to make a... mini car! A sleep-powered car!"

"Wilbur," Cornelius interrupted, finally feeling the effects of his jet-lag catching up to him, "I would really appreciate it if you didn't mess with me. What-were-you-doing-in-my-lab?" He pronounciated every word, keeping eye contact with his son, who was looking younger and more like a bunny who had just met a wolf every second.

He paused, than hung his head. "I was looking at your experiment journals."

Cornelius Robinson ran his hand through his toned-down hair. "Wilbur-" He stopped. Shook his head. "Just leave. Don't ever touch my journals, Wilbur."

He nodded and darted out. Even with the house being as huge as it was, it only took him 220 seconds to reach his room. Leaning against the door heavily, he sighed. Slipping to his knees Wilbur felt tears sliding and dripping from his chin. "Lewis, I..." But he didn't finish. He could only bury his face in his arms and cry.

A/N: Sorry I died there for a while, guys! XD I've decided to pick up this story again, so you can expect an update probably every couple weeks.


	4. Annoy

At sixteen, Lewis Robinson was happily about to finish high school. As soon as his paperwork went through, (including, as I understand, _very_ detailed findings about morning being the best inventing time of the day), the state was going to allow him to graduate with honors and he would continue to college. (Or so his school counselor told him, and assuming he decided to slog through the mess that is the college science system)

Franny, who was still in the mind swamp that is their public high school, was already student leader of the school band, and had already been offered scholarships to the best music schools in the country. She tended to decline, though, much to the college's ambassador's delight when they were shocked to hear her begin to describe her frogs and the future she was planning around them. Frogs, you see, are not normally the most "classic" or "normal" type of accepted music in this time. (Those words meaning, as I've been informed, "music people listen to created by people, and not frogs")

Lewis sighed and put down his pencil. Looking at the Hover-Boots plans after Wilbur had suggested adding recyclable air seemed like a golden idea once he had gotten home, but after fiddling with the new design for five hours, he was beginning to regret not thinking through everything first before trying to put it on paper.

Suddenly, something was around his neck and becoming considerably too tight for normal breathing functions. Lewis immediately thought of the nightmare of the Hawaiian lei that had killed him by strangling him to death, all the while smelling the pretty flowers. Hmm. He actually did smell something pretty.

He was spending too much time in the lab.

Turning slowly, he saw brown eyes blink back at him innocently. Franny.

"Lewis, you are spending too much time up here."

He grinned slowly. Well, as usual, she was voicing the exact thing that was in his mind. Yeah. Frightening, I know, but that is the curse of woman. (Or so I'm told)

"We still have a date for tonight, though?" He asked, his mind still trying to stop whirring around the Hover-Boots and focus on the hot woman in front of him. Also, he was feeling a bit fuzzy on the time. Inventing does that to a person, from what he could gather.

Franny laughed and rolled her eyes. "That, my friend, is what I'm here for. Tonight, Lewis, is actually right now. We are currently in the evening of today. Did you lose track of time again?" Her brown eyes were flashing, clevering hiding the laughter she was trying to bottle.

Lewis jumped up, then, realizing Franny was still attached to him, sat back down, steadying her in the process. A woman in heels is sexy, but easy to tip over.

Blushing, he began putting things away. "Go ahead downstairs, Fran. I'll get cleaned up and be right down. Maybe we can catch the later show. Two Zombies and a Werewolf still, right?"

" Two Werewolves and a Zombie, but yes." She laughed out loud, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Hurry on up, _darling_, I can only wait so long for my popcorn!"

Lewis cocked his head, watching her leave in awe. It was still a wonder to him that a gorgeous babe like Franny would date _him._ Although, he reasoned, her fascination with frogs was a bit... unnatural.

With a start, Lewis snapped out of his reverie and went back to... "organizing" his desk. (There wasn't any way to get that lab organized though, even with a team of 10 maids and Bud with a vacuum cleaner)

Straightening, he resigned to the realization that nothing would come of trying to clean this, and decided he should go change.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard, "Lewis?" The aforementioned almost jumped out of his pants as he turned to be face to face with Cornelius Robinson.

"Cornelius-, I uh... why...?" He stuttered, trying to coax a concise thought out of his mouth.

The older Robinson shook his head. "Lewis... We need to talk."

...

"Yo, Wilbur! You're finally back!"

Wilbur Robinson was not in the mood to talk to anyone, not even his best-metal-friend. He opened the multi-layered refridgerator door, (a safety measure for when Mom wanted to diet; she assumed that the more doors you had to open, the less you would want the double fudge chocolate ice cream... she ended up gaining two pounds of muscle from opening all the doors so many times) and peered around, hoping for some miracle, like regular food. "Yeah Carl, and I'm not really in the mood."

Carl rubbed his palms together, slinging an arm around Wilbur's shoulder. "Did something happen, buddy? You know you can always tell your old pal Carl, doncha?"

He just rolled his eyes. "Even if I wanted to talk, it wouldn't be to you."

Carl stepped back, marked with psuedo-shock. "Why not? You know, I haven't seen you for a while, Wilbur. You've been at school and gone with the time machine so much lately that I'm thinking of converting your room to a bowling alley." He swung his arm out in a mock bowling pose, stretching to the other end of the kitchen and bouncing back with a _pop_. (Popping is something you should see a doctor about if your arm does it, but Carl is made of metal, so I'm told it is completely safe for him. This is unproven and should not be taken as a suggestion to try popping his arm)

Wilbur shot back, avoiding the flying arm and glared at his friend. "Bowling is for wussies. Anyway, being busy isn't a bad thing. Dad's busy all the time. Nobody says anything about converting his bedroom. Not even Mom!"

Carl sighed, lowering his voice. "Is this about Lewis?"

Instantly Wilbur turned. "It's no big deal."

"Because you know your parents are just trying to help you, don't you?"

He bit his lip. "Yeah. Help. I gotta go."

The robot stood and watched him leave. "Oh, Wilbur."

...

It occurred to Wilbur that he hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning. Nothing had been edible in the fridge, (or at least, edible to _normal_ people), and he had left Lewis before he had had time to eat any of his fast food. Franny had shown up and they had gone all goo goo eyed. Come to think of it, Wilbur had had to endure his parents making lovey-dovey eyes at each other in both of the times he had been to today. While most people don't mind their parents doing that, seeing them while they are your own age is something that is a force to be reckoned with. Wilbur had yet to find something grosser than watching people who made you look at each other like they wanted to make another one of you.

He was too mad to eat, though. Even though teenage boys always like to eat, this was one instance where his growling stomach was just annoying to listen to. He marched to his room like he actually had somewhere important to go. The plan was to punching his punching bag until he was so tired he fell asleep. Seriously.

Wilbur kicked at his door enough to let himself in. Stalking in, he disreguarded the light and just flopped onto his bed. (with flair) _Hang on,_ He thought, _there's something crinkly...? _

Rolling over slowly, he unpeeled the piece of paper from his belly. He opened one eye to read, _Wilbur! Your dad and I went out on the times, so we have the good time machine. Do NOT use the other one; Dad still hasn't simplified the controls, meaning that they are completely different from this one. There's a pizza in the freezer and Grandpa Bud needs help cleaning his teeth. Love and kisses, Mom. _

Dinner, chores, and time travel. Typical of Mom's notes.

Wilbur closed his eye and buried his face in the messy covers, groaning. Now he couldn't do anything tonight even if he had wanted to. Maybe not with Lewis, (Fridays were date nights), but he could have maybe gone to some historic party or back to Space Station 1400z.

Marilyn Monroe had liked him that one time he went to Jimmy Demaret's birthday party.

Wilbur sat up, grabbing his mother's scrawl with one hand and marching out of his bedroom. "_...Dad hasn't simplified the controls...?" _

Screw that.


	5. Steal

A/N: I added chapter titles!

…...

Franny uncrossed her legs. Crossed them again. Uncross. Cross. Uncross.

Blink. Breathe. Glare at her watch.

She rolled her eyes. Since Lewis had told her to go downstairs and wait, it had been almost an hour. It had looked like he had been sketching shoes this time, although there wear no lose parts scattered across his desk, so he seemed to still be in the planning stage.

Franny huffed. The planning stage is where Lewis usually got hung up and spent hours planning and losing track of time. Although the toys he made where better than anything he could ever buy her.

So he lost track of time again. What was different about that? But she hasn't been with with him for more than five minutes for more than a week. Date nights were sacred.

"I guess it's time to go get Lewis again."

She marched up the steps, (actually the last set in the house; she had gotten Lewis to replace the rest with the suck-drop tubes), thinking about the movie. Or rather, what she hoped they would be doing instead of the movie. Just then, she saw a mass of blonde in a white lab coat heading the opposite direction. She cocked her head, stopping. "Lewis?"

The hair had been too short.

Glancing at the lab door, she made a snap judgement. "Lewis?" She called, jogging after him.

He had rounded a corner, and before Franny could catch up, she heard a strange sound. And when she turned down the next hallway, there was no one there.

_That sounded like... nah. _She shook her head, turning back to the lab. Lewis didn't time hop without her these days, anyway.

…...

The garage was sitting open, like it normally wasn't. Grandpa Bud had bought himself a new car though, and he loved cruising through town in it. His favorite part was when he had tried to drive backwards with the face drawn on his bald spot, and Grandma had had to save him from crashing. Now she always tried to go with him because of how prone he was to doing things like that.

(_He's not an idiot, Wilbur, _she'd say, _he just doesn't think. _Then she'd smile like he was the president of the whole world)

So, oddly enough, there was only one vehicle left: the second time machine. The one the Bowler Hat guy had taken, (Wilbur shook his head. Goob had come back to visit once or twice, and was a nice enough guy now. But he couldn't quite bring himself to remembering to call him that; how many former villians have you heard of named Goob?), waiting for Wilbur, beckoning him.

He gulped. Marilyn Monroe had used that same "come hither" look that this darn time machine was vibing now.

So he did the same thing he had done with Marilyn; ran over as fast as he could. "Is the little time machine lonely?" He purred, hoping no one would walk in as he stroked the side of the thing. He stepped into the cockpit, taking in the controls. "These don't look so different." He mused, putting his hands on his hips. "Mom's just paranoid is all."

Sitting down in the pilot's seat was exciting. He shivered with giddiness; this machine was off-limits to him and he kind of felt like a little kid the first time he ever stole one of Mom's frogs to bring to show and tell. Or stealing cookies. Or trying to rewire Carl so that he'd let Wilbur play in the suck-drop tubes.

But he couldn't just sit and wait, he reasoned. Carl would eventually find him, (he was programmed that way, but mostly it was because Carl was his friend and they had been together since Wilbur turned 3), and then he'd never hear the end of it.

"Here goes nothing," He said, and grabbed a lever, pulling it down with a _snap_.

-…...

When she entered the lab, the blonde boy was shaking. "Lewis!" She cried, running to him. "What's going on?"

His eyes were vacant, staring wide-eyed into space. He slowly turned up to meet her eyes.

"Franny?"

She hugged him gently, kneeling down next to his chair. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He shook his head, trying to force out words. She waited patiently for him, but he didn't speak again. "Lewis?"

"I can't..." He shook his head, looking at her. "I need to find Wilbur."

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A/N:

Oh my! Plot? Yeah, I can barely believe it either. XD Also, so sorry about the shortness of this chapter. The next one is taking shape to be quite a bit bigger. And it's going be EPPPIC! Just take my word for it. ;)

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! Novanto, Yearof-theDragon, AniLovesMe, Eminnis, Mary_Penelope, WandaCosmoForever... You guys make my day every time you leave me love!

Mary_Penelope: Isn't he, though? What a DODO! XD


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